If you’re from New York and grew up or worked in or around any of the Hasidic enclaves, you probably caught a glimpse of the Shomrim at night rolling around in their unmarked vans full of stoic looking Jews you wouldn’t want to fuck with. If you’re outside of New York, hell, even outside of Brooklyn, the thought probably seems completely surreal. Most people think of the Guardian Angels as NYC’s vigilante organization since they’ve been fully engrained into our pop culture lexicon; but the Shomrim have been going strong for almost 20 years patroling places like Williamsburg and Borough Park, operating mostly outside of the law. Up above is a recent recruiting film of these badass Jews at work taking down the bad guys, who of course are mostly going to be either black or hispanic.
I found the video pretty campy and surreal, and I know these dudes exist. Shit’s looks like some bad 80′s cop show crossed with a Tim & Eric bit. I wish there ere bonus features complete with the casting call for the “criminal element.” Anyway, If this vid peaked your interest, the Village Voice just did a big expose on the organization who were flung into the spotlight recently because of the brutal murder of Leiby Kletzky. Go check it out and don’t fuck with the Jews.
As of late, I’ve been scouring the world wide web vehemently in search of the books of my past. Who cares, right? Well chill out bro, these aren’t just any books I’m talking about; They are the ones that as a kid, I would read from cover to cover and then crack open again or return to my school library and check out again the next week. They are the novels and novellas that, please excuse the cliches and sappiness, held the keys to the doors of my imagination, flinging them open wildly and letting in creatures of insurmountable wonder along with the movable, magical, lands they came from. Still with me?
You see, dorkiness is bound to no age bracket or singular event, those with any sense will tell you, “Once a nerd, always a nerd”. Its that budding nerd within me that calls out now, ordering me to flip through my memory bank and revisit the literature that made me the jerk I am today. I did just that with all of my “research” leading me right back here to compile The High Five again for you fine, loyal readers. If you failed to read the title, I will be counting off my five favorite and most formative sci-fi and fantasy fiction, this excludes anything outside of the genre and the likes of Harry Potter, Narnia, or Lord of the Rings, got it? Good. Let us begin.
There’s some flying rats up in this bitch. To be exact the rats don’t have the capability to fly on their own so they use a crow, whose life they saved if I’m not mistaken, as a means of traversing the skies. Pretty, pretty, good. These laboratory rats, former prisoners of N.I.M.H., or more plainly the National Institute for Mental Health, have an increased intelligence level due to experimentation on them by humans.
Mrs. Frisby is some pathetic field mouse but then these badass mutated rodents show up and help her escape a farmer’s plow and welcome her into their liberal yet technologically-advanced communal lifestyle. The rats’ leader is named Nicodemus and I will surely be naming my first-born that. The filmic adaptation, The Secret of NIMH, is rad too and I recommend it to any fan of animation.
Chances are you’ve either heard of this book or the author or both. Wanna know why? It’s mainly because Ender’s Game is considered to be one of the greatest science fiction works ever written or at least amongst my friends it was. Here’s the abridged version — Humans and insects are battling it out in space as the Earthlings attempt to defend their planet and colonize the other.
They are training and recruiting kids in the third and upcoming war against the bugs, teaching them to wipe-out the Hive Queens. One of those kids is Andrew “Ender” Wiggin who possesses the tactical ability and inborn fighting skills to destroy the Formic (insect species) completely. He climbs the rungs becoming the most valuable exterminator in the ranks and then his conscience hits back. That should be enough, go read it, seriously. Long live OSC.
Yesterday, it was revealed that ESPN The Magazinewould be running a story in its next issue, out September 5, titled “What if Michael Vick Were White?” with the subtitle reading, “Since the day he was arrested, people have asked. The answer isn’t what you think.” No, the answer was not what anybody thought, as it turned out to be another instance of using a controversial, inflammatory headline to boost print sales.
However, along with the ridiculous title came the below illustration of what ESPN suspects Vick would actually look like were he white. Now, overnight, sports nerds everywhere have been shaming ESPN by making their own “What if Michael Vick Were…” images, including the one up top by The Source of “What if Peyton Manning Were A Black White Michael Vick?” Below check out the original “What if…” image along with some of the best imitations.
“What If Michael Vick Were White?”
“What If Michael Vick Were A Ginger?”
“What If White Michael Vick Were Black Michael Vick?”
“What If Michael Vick Were Marcus Vick?”
“What If Michael Vick Were An Actual Eagle?”
“What If Michael Vick Were A Vegan Chocolate Ice Cream Cone?”
“What I Michael Vick Were Made of Barbecued Spare Ribs? Would You Eat Him?”
Whether you want to pigeon-hole seminal 80′s rockers Voivod as Speed Metal, Progressive Metal, Thrash, or Intergalactic Warcore (as Pantera member Philip H. Anselmo saw fit to do), I’d be willing to bet that nobody would ever dispute the fact that these dude are HEAVY. This ever-evolving gang of Canucks have been at for almost 30 years now, after releasing their debut material at some point in 1982, but show little sign of losing any steam within the near future. Leading the Voivod charge has always been drummer Michel Langevin, who generally assumes the pseudonym Away, and who’s also recently decided to add book scribe to his long list of credits.
According to a press release showcased on the official Worlds Away book homepage, Langevin has bee:
Feverishly making art and even more feverish music since the late 70″s. (Worlds) Away is a living legend in the extreme metal underground. As drummer, chief conceptualist, lyricist and of course maniacal psychedelic sci-fi artist for the star-straddling Voivod, he has constructed fantastical worlds that have entranced cyber-thrash listeners and galaxy watchers since the band’s debut album back in 1984. Worlds Away is his intensely creative life boldly told in words and pictures.”
As you could imagine, any Voivod fan worth their salt should consider this thing required reading.
Upon scowering the internet for a short bit this afternoon, I wasn’t really able to track down much of the artwork or content that’s actually contained within the new book. Taking into account the caliber of Voivod’s extensive body of work though, I’m sure this thing will be a quality read. Take it from former Metallica bassist Jason Newsted, referring to the metal auteur and author, when he claims that “From his unique, creepy-scratchy scrawlings and early age computer generated images, to nearly three decades of beautiful and futuristic album concepts, Away is a true pioneer of heavy metal drumming, drawing and digital art.” While I’m just a lowly copy writer, this dude played in Metallica! He probably knows what he’s talking about.
Anyway, head over the tome’s official website, and pick up a copy of your very own. With any luck, our very own first-pressing hard-cover copy will be showing up at Мишка HQ any day now.
I’ve been an absentee Hateball, I know. Was it last time that I told you (all?) that I wouldn’t start posts like this? Sadly, I do not have the time to go check…which is the first (and second) rule for how to spot a poor interjournalist. I suppose you will have to just shoot me.
Alas—forsooth!—I have been busy with my other family. My secret family. The one that doesn’t really translate to my internet life. Sure, they are involved, but, well, it’s different. If you’re my real internet folks, then this beautiful creature sitting next to me is my hidden mistress, and this not-so-tiny version of myself at my feet is—yep—a keep-a-Hateball baby.
But! Like any deadbeat would say, I’m here now. And that counts for something…right, champ? I know I been busy, but I been out there—up on my grind, steady mobbin, cold lampin on them curbs, stunting like a daddy. Like an actual daddy. So ya. On the real. Haters at east, playas say please. Let’s talk about some toys.
Much to my sort of huge shock and surprise, I was recently asked to participate in an upcoming book. A book about collectors. Apparently, when approached by the curator of the project, my good galpal Skinner told the person that my collection puts his to shame. Or something. Which was both very very nice and very very wrong. Still! This person reached out, and I sort of half-jokingly accepted, assuming that any book/publication (present company excluded, of course) that would have me MUST be a joke. So let’s joke. When it’s on it’s on.
And then I decided to take it seriously. Really wanting to document this year of our Lord (and baby) as it relates to my toy collection. Who knows? Maybe something will change in the next year or two and I won’t have it anymore (no plans, but still). It might be good to get things in order and do a survey..and hey! what a great opportunity, right?
So, for the past week or two, I’ve been diligently trying to push myself to take ‘good’ photos of my ‘best’ stuff. I’ve been attempting to ‘actually’ write answers and be ‘interesting’ in response to interviews. I’m thinking of themes for essays. That’s right: I write essays. No shit.
One of the stipulations of my participation in this thing—a stipulation I outlined at the beginning—was that I would not, under any circumstances, attempt a ‘collection’ shot of my toys, as I did not really want to tear my office apart. I didn’t want to learn about photography in that way. And I didn’t want to take the time. It was out of the question.
And so, in true Hateball fashion, I present to you a super-quick 2-minute flyby of the setup for the ‘collection’ shot I just took. The final shot will be submitted for the book and of course be rejected because of some flaw in craftsmanship. Or something.
REJECTED
SRSLY: To get all photogeek for a second. I took it at 20mm in 1 shot at F/22 with natural light. Was OK. Bad reflections. Then I decided that I wanted it crisper, so I took it at 50mm (also at F/22) in 2 shots and bungled the stitch. THEN, I returned with my 35mm portrait and also still had to get it in 2 shots, and the result was good once I removed the doors from my cases. And foiled the windows and switched to fluorescent light. Which I count as a sin. Against God and nature.
Finally, I used my business partner’s micro 4:3 shooting RAW at 90mm and stitched no less than 12 shots together. Unreal. It took, literally, the computing power that I assume UNREAL took a few years ago.
This thing here, though, was done in about 30 minutes using the Flip we got at our baby shower. I had a Jericho-sized headache at the time and could only see out of my right eye. I hope to return to the scene of the crime and take something longer…possibly narrated (that’s what she said). We’ll see. Please, at the very least, enjoy the sound of Danzig’s voice.
For now, Hateball’s gotta go away for a few days. I’ll be right back I promise…maybe we can go on that fishing trip NEXT weekend. Be good for your Crook while I’m away. And download Relics of Dune if you haven’t already. Best mix I’ve heard all year.
Zain Curtis, known to more people as Teen Witch and co-founder of The Ratcatchers blog, is loved around these parts. He’s had a recent Sounds from the Otherside dedicated to himand Мишка’s support for his Chicago based dance party, CULT. But outside the Bloglinverse he’s also been carving out a special place for himself in the history of the weird world of Net Art. Teen Witch’s work unabashedly borrows and appropriates from pop cultural themes, sub cultural memes, and underground radical queer culture to filter it all through a sort of psychedelic-techno, children’s cartoon aesthetic.
Zain recently launched a kickstarter to create a magazine appropriately entitled Teen Witch and knowing Zain, it’s going to be totally awesome. Physical magazines are slowly and sadly becoming obsolete, so supporting a purely independent art magazine geared towards “putting BOP and J-14 through a kaleidoscope, aiming to honor and give praise to the gay and trans youth underground scene” is something that should be high on your to-do list.
Have you ever caught yourself daydreaming about lying in a hammock with JTT when your parents weren’t home? Well your dream may come true. TW’s interactive quizzes will give you the indefinite answer you’ve been looking for. Can you hear the wedding bells now? Exposing the likes of teen pop singer-songwriter Jenna Rose, Japanese virtual pop star Hatsune Miku, House and soul extraordinaire Alexis Penney and, “the Black Sailor Moon”, New York’s raptress Mykki Blanco, TW is daring to steal your heart away from JTT.
Donaters to the cause will be treated to a wide variety of “thank you” packages ranging from personalized tweets, being listed in the first issue, copies of the mag, pins, CDs all the way to lavish Diva bundles featuring Teen Witch T-shirts courtesy of NVR MND and even a hand-painted denim back patch! Donations close in 20 or so days, so lets make this ‘zine a reality, it’ll be worth it.
If you’re interested in contributing and have more questions please email Teen Witch directly for more information.
You need to become acquainted withStar Magazine, AKA my bible. No, this isn’t the idiotic rag that you can find in any local nail salon or gynecologist’s office. The title first belonged to a magazine dedicated to teenage groupie life in 1973. Just five issues were published before they were forced to fold due to public shock and dissent, but they provide enough content to change a life forever. They feature articles teaching you how to sleep with Marc Bolan and trick your parents out of punishment, fiction pieces with names like “Chain Gang High School,” and quizzes that beg the all-important question “How Far Out Are You?” If you follow the advice put forth in Star, chances are you’re about as far out as you can go without drowning in a sea of platform heels and glittery eyeshadow.
Archivist Ryan Richardson has collected and posted each of the five issues in full on his website, and it makes for an incredibly in-depth sociological look at the way loose teenage girls acted during the dawning of the age of Aquarius. (Can you tell I’m trying to pass off my love for teen-skankitude as a social science?)
They were dedicated to teaching girls the way of the fox, which was just about the highest compliment to give or receive in the days of Star, as seen in this excerpt from an article about the perfect boyfriend: “SUPERFOX is that groovy dude who is the perfect match for your far-out personal style. He is your Main Squeezzzzzze! This is the man who will put a little more glide in your stride, and let you fall out to a happening in your sizzle pants with a few extra dips in your hips. Know where I’m coming from? I bet you do!”I mean, sizzle pants. Are you devoted to this magazine yet?
Their hard-hitting explorations of groupie life are unbelievable as well. They provide illuminating tips that are meant to help high school girls sleep with musicians like Alice Cooper and the Rolling Stones, like which hotel lobbies to hang around at night. “Even if a guy is 120 years old you have to be kissie with him ’cause he might make good connections for you,” says one groupie in the fifth issue. No wonder the parents of America wanted this magazine dead.
Another of my favorite articles is called “The Evil She-Fox: Will She Ruin Your Life?” It’s all about whether your entire existence is going to be ruined because a girl is prettier than you, which is a constant problem in my own personal life. The answer? “Don’t envy the She-Fox’s good looks. She may be sexy, but true foxiness is not only what you look like. It’s what you are. Ask any guy that’s got it together.” Whoa, personality is more important than looks? Thanks for the originality and insight, Star.
Never before or since has there been a magazine so overt in its obsession with fucking rock stars and breaking dress codes. Is it possible that teenage girls were sluttier in the 1970s then they are now? If Star is any indication, the answer looks like yes.
A month after the whole Complex finds Earl brouhaha, The New Yorker’s got the scoop with an actual interview with Earl Sweatshirt that the New Yorker calls “an epic eight-thousand-word story that should be read in full.” That’s awesome right!!! Well hold your horses ’cause you’re not going to be able to read it unless you buy a copy of the Magazine or have a digital subscription.
You can get somewhat of a taste over on their website, but it’s hardly the whole article which I’m sure in the next hour someone will copy and paste somewhere else, and then one of you will link to it in the comments.
You’ll never guess who was in the new issue of Acclaim Magazine! Me! Me was in Acclaim Magazine. You’ll probably also be surprised to hear that there’s a thing called Acclaim Magazine! But you’d probably be surprised to hear about any magazine! Some still exist and this is one of them!
This one, Acclaim, is made in Australia for an Australian audience so it’s mostly pictures! (Take that, Australians! Zing!) My pal Ryan Keely was on the cover some time about a year ago so it was cool that I could be in the magazine too, and I didn’t even have to be a sexy lady! Although you are more than welcome to jerk off to me!
I’m not the only guy from Мишка in the mag. Greg “Kills Competition” Mishka is in here too. His portrait was taken by our guy, Lamour Supreme. When Lamour saw this he kept going,”Wowwwww. I’m a photographer now!” The article on Greg details some of the best crap in his treasure heap.
Then there’s a fashion spread of sexy youngsters wearing cool clothes including the Fuck Punk shirt that I illustrated. I wasn’t on the cover or in Greg’s interview but the thing I drew was in this photoshoot that’s meant to look like a sexy fun party. It’s almost like I’m at the sexy party because my shirt’s there except that I wouldn’t fit in at that party at all because I’d get bored and hate their music.
“Hey kids, what’s this crap you’re listening to? Arcade Fire!? Fuck that shit. Here listen to some “Wytch Hauz,” that’s where it’s at. Do you know who is dead? Bela Lugosi, that’s who.” If you want to buy my super cool T-shirt and be a sexy teen that I hate then buy it from us over here.
There”s some more sexy teens (makin’ me so mad n’ horny) wearing Мишка clothes but none of them are mine so I could care less. I can’t beat off to girls who are not wearing clothes that I made. It is my gift. It is my curse. You can buy this shirt here if you want. I don’t care though.
It’s kinda odd that the New York issue is so focused on us. New York isn’t T-shirts or artists…It’s buildings and land! It’s tunnels and prisons and containers that seperate humans from each other! It’s pain and human waste, and about a million-billion cockroaches. Imagine a homeless man’s turd doing some sort of swing dance with a cockroach whore. That’s what New York is to me.
On the final page is the interview that some Australian did with me. It’s called Pretty Girls and Monsters since that’s most of what I draw. In this very revealing interview I bared some personal information and finally discuss how I met Greg Мишка at Safe Harbor. I also talk about some other stuff. I forget.
You can buy that art that they used from Мишка right here, for a mere four-hundo. So that’s my news. We were slathered all over an Australian lifestyle magazine like poisonous bugs are slathered over that accursed continent.
Wow, after some serious internet sleuthing Complex has found the whereabouts of the beloved Earl Sweatshirt!!! Well actually maybe not his whereabouts as of right now but wherever it was that his mother shipped him off to just before Odd Future became the greatest thing since sliced bread.
Following a trail of breadcrumb and rumors found in recent Odd Future tracks, tweets and some facebook posts. Complex pinpointed Earl to some sort of military academy/reform school in Samoa. They even found a picture as proof. Head over there now to see how everything unfolded.
